My night last night involved some possibly pending really awesome news that I would prefer to share if and when it becomes official, but, for right now, suffice it to say it involved a dog (the news has nothing to do with that per se). A very sweet dog whose cute little head I naturally petted repeatedly.

I then went home where the boyfriend and I interacted. I possibly also ruffled his hair at one point as he was laying (lying? I can never remember) on the couch when I got in.

Shortly thereafter we decided to go out and grab a pizza. As we were waiting for the elevator, he asked about how my post-work appointment went and I casually mentioned the dog.

And he freaked out. FREAKED OUT. As in, went back in the apartment and scrubbed his hands and then accused me of touching a dog and then touching him without washing my hands (I mean, all true, but really no big deal, right?).

I think therapy is in order.

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